


Ya Doma / I Am Home

by giddytf2



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: M/M, Poetry, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:37:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2851076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giddytf2/pseuds/giddytf2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Heavy/Medic poem for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ya Doma / I Am Home

**Author's Note:**

> Just something for Heavy/Medic fans as 2014 draws to a close. Merry Christmas!
> 
> P.S. The soundtrack I listened to was [Alexandre Desplat's Love Returns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pBm0lrQngS8).

The map is a light blanket of lines and dots

in Heavy’s hands – he studies it like Medic would a heart

or liver, eyes wide from a tingling within his ribs

where Medic had once waded those long, eloquent fingers

through his blood rivers and flesh canyons.

He sits on the toilet and yells out places

for Medic who’s downstairs to examine and slice away,

like _New York City_ , _Paris_ , _Bora Bora_ and _Maui_.

  
  


He wants to bring Medic to that cafe down the road

where the s _livovyĭ_ _p_ _irog_ and _pechenie yabloki_ tastes

just like the ones Mama baked before the bullets

took her and his sisters. He wants to bring Medic to

these sun-worshipped places, to sweeten Medic’s lips,

to stop thinking when – if, if, if – Medic will change his

mind and go from _love me_ to _love me not_.

  
  


Such silly things he thinks about – what hue of flower

to place upon Medic’s pillow before he awakens, how much

honey to drizzle on the pancakes to summon that

moon-kissed smile, how many times he will say

         _Ya tebya lyublyu_

                 _I love you_

        (Forever, forever if he has to)

                    before the words return to him

                             in the tide from Medic’s mouth.

  
  


Such voiceless things he thinks about even more -

that perhaps he will die alone, far far away from here

                 _from you, moya lyubov_

in a lightning hail of gunfire or his heart forgetting how

to race. Or in the quiet hefting of luggage bags and

quieter footsteps out the door of this house

                         _my home, my only home_ -

  
  


“None of zhose!” Medic yells back,

up the stairs, through the door. “I vant to

stay here!” and just like that, Heavy is back

in the room, his pants up and the toilet flushing and

the sink singing as he washes his hands.

Smiling, smiling and

  
  


Smiling still with each airy tread down the stairs

while he listens to the soft stream of

                         _Ich liebe Dich_

                                 _Ich liebe Dich sehr_

from an unsuspecting Medic’s honey-coated lips,

going down,

                down,

                        down to where his beloved stands,

                        waiting for him and thanking god for his home,

                        his whole world coming down to greet him.

  
  


                                                                         _\- giddytf2_


End file.
